


Hey, Litter Girl!

by drabbleshereandthere



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Eventual Fluff, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 00:30:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15085103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drabbleshereandthere/pseuds/drabbleshereandthere
Summary: Billy has to go to the library to pick up Max, and finds a ton of crushed up papers with no name on them. One just so happens to be partially open and he reads it. They’re all yours. He calls you litter girl.





	Hey, Litter Girl!

**Author's Note:**

> making this into two parts

To be simply put, Billy was damn tired of everything and everyone. It was Friday evening, and he had a hook up with some hot chick that approached him about “hanging out” a few days ago. Unfortunately for him, it wasn’t happening. It was pouring rain outside, and Max was late from the arcade earlier. He HAD warned her, if she was late, he was leaving her there and she was skating home. So, he did exactly as he said when she was late, he left. The plan was to pick Max up, drop her off at the house, and go get his dick wet. But, she was late, so instead he went home to get ready, and once Neil realized Max didn’t accompany Billy home, he sent him out to fetch her from the local library. The woman still working late had called Neil, after Max informed her that she was unable to leave due to the rain. Max had only made it to the library before it started pouring and Billy could bet that she would get the interior of his car soaking wet. 

Billy had to go out in the rain to fetch Max, miss his date, explain things to his hook up, apologize to the librarian, deal with a wet interior, and have another shitty evening when he got home after another from Neil. Yeah, he was tired of everything and everyone. This had been going on all week, a real winning streak.   
Max was in for it when he showed up. That would be the case, if she wasn’t late for him coming- again. Billy was already wet from racing out of the house and into his car. Now, he was going to have to make the same trip into the fucking library. He needed a light, but since he now had to go inside to retrieve Max, the rain would only put it out. It was fair to say he was more than frustrated at this point. Goddamn it, Maxine.

He opened his Camaro’s door and slammed it, progressively making his way to the doors. He opened them up, and was comforted with the warmth and dim orange lighting of the library. Billy wasn’t focused on that though, more drawn to the soaking Max sitting at a table a little bit away. He took two steps away from the door, and his attention was taken away again by the sound of crumpling under his feet. He scowled and looked down at the culprit of the sound. A lot of crumpled up paper. “A lot” meaning, the small trash can was over flowing and there were quite a few papers strewn about on the outside. He picked the one up that was crunched under his shoe and threw it to the side of the trashcan, out of his way. He noticed that, all the papers were crumpled up, but one was left only balled up half way. It was half open, and he picked it up, letting his eyes run over the span of it as his fingers softened the creases in the paper. 

What he found, was writing, scrawled in little bits. They looked like thoughts, will small illustrations and doodles littered along the sides of the paper. The writing was unorthodox and messy, with each letter connected. Almost like a failed attempt at cursive, but the touch was light and dainty he could tell, and it had a certain grace to the way it was written. There was also grace in the things written themselves. Whoever was writing these used intricate wording and beautiful descriptions. He picked up another paper to look for a name, and yet there was none. There was, though, a soaking redhead next to him trying to catch his notice. “Are you ready to go? Why are you digging in the trash?” “It’s none of your business what ever the hell I choose to do. For your information, I stepped on the shit and wanted to throw it away.” “You’ve been standing here looking at that for a while, but okay.” “Can it and get in the car.” 

They both loaded up after trying to guard themselves from the rain on the trip to the car. It was silent, and Max wondered why Billy wasn’t screaming at her. She was prepared for it to come, yet he was just gazing out onto the road, driving. Which wouldn’t be a problem- except it’s Billy and he’s an asshole. All of a sudden, he speaks up, “Did you see who was throwing all of those into the floor without picking em’ up?” “I think so. I wasn’t there very long before she left. But, she was writing. I don’t think she knew that she was getting paper everywhere.” “Who is she?” Max furrowed her brows. “I don’t know. Why do you care?” “I don’t.” And Billy didn’t, at the time. He also didn’t care that your writing had managed to calm his mind. But, that may have been because he didn’t notice, either. 

As time passed, for some reason, the writing kept bugging him. It was something you would find in a damn poetry book and yet some girl was sitting in a dusty library throwing it all away. He decided to refer to you as ‘litter girl’ in his head. Billy hadn't realized that upon leaving the library, he`d kept your paper in his pocket. What he did note, though, was that he kept reading the damned thing whenever he found himself in a bad mood. It was calming- the simplistic drawings and the elegance in the flow of wording, and he didn't even like to read. It was annoying him- that some shitty paper he found on the library floor was helping him out. But then again, it wasn't like anyone else knew about it, and if he wanted to read then he damn well could. 

Monday, when Billy pulled into the school parking lot, there was nothing that could have prepared him for what was going to happen that day. Billy would skip class whenever he could, but that day just wasn’t one of them. He’d been skipping more and more frequently, and Neil kept getting on his ass- so there he was, suffering in the third period of the day. Third period was always long. No matter what. If any class was going to seem like 5 hours long, anyone could count on it being English. The teacher was always a bitchy, monotone, asshole, and that wasn’t even the worst part. Billy swore that she chose the most mind numbing material available. 

When his name rang out following yours, you knew that this was going to be tougher than usual because of who you were with. Billy Hargrove. He was going to need an extra push in the right direction, and if you gave him a push that tilted him in the wrong direction even a smidge, this project was going to turn into a raging dumpster fire on his part. You decided then and there, that with all your power, you would attempt to make this work. You had hit a roadblock too many times lately, and this wasn’t going to turn into one too. 

By the time the droning was over from the instructor explaining the project, the bell had seconds before it rang to signal next period’s start. You caught Billy walking out the classroom at just the right time. In your planning of making this work, you had written your number on a sticky note to give to him to make sure everything went smoothly. “Hargrove!” He peered back at you and raised an eyebrow. “Here’s my number,” you stuck the note to his chest and began walking in your next classes direction while still facing him, “Use it!” Then you turned, and you left almost soon as you came. 

He tore the sticky note off his chest, slightly annoyed at the girl who was so bold to give him her number and give him orders. Who the hell were you? Then he remembered. You were his project partner. He didn’t plan on using your number. But, something caught his eye. The writing was familiar in some way. Your number was written across the note, and then your name with a dash next to it. (Y/N). Hmm. He didn’t recognize it, and brushed it off. He kept the number, just in case. 

As hours of the day passed, that note bothered the shit out of him. Eventually, he got tired of it, and decided to just call the number. There wasn’t any harm in it. He mulled it over- actually doing the project- or maybe talking you into doing it. Defenitely attempting to talking you into doing it. 

You were proud. You went up to Billy Hargrove, and did what you needed to do. You may have had to calm yourself down and debate on whether to apologize for being so brash- for an entire hour- but it was all fine now. Nothing could change it anyway. You had a feeling, though, that even with your effort, he wasn’t going to make use of it. So it was the biggest surprise when he did.


End file.
